


We’re Trying Our Best Here

by tangerinesandbeans



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Does it count as a slow burn if it’s under 10k? No? Ok, F/M, Gen, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Tenderness, sorry to my beta reader, technically this was mostly beta read
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26108449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangerinesandbeans/pseuds/tangerinesandbeans
Summary: Richie’s officially out of the closet, and everything is great. Well, except for the fact that his best friend has been avoiding him ever since.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, all of the losers club, background benverly - Relationship, background hanborough, background stanpat - Relationship
Comments: 12
Kudos: 52





	We’re Trying Our Best Here

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so this was originally gonna just be a very long oneshot but i thought it would be better to split it int two parts! I’ve started on the second chapter already and I hope to have it out soon, but it might be up later  
> Please enjoy this fic written by someone who only started crying over these losers two months ago :)

Being an out gay man in his 40’s hadn’t been something Richie was looking forward to previously, but to be honest, he was loving it. Sure, Twitter had had a field day when he finally came out, and he was certain he never wanted to hear about another Buzzfeed article about himself ever again; but other than that he was doing pretty good. Something about fighting a murder clown and coming close to losing two of your best (and only) friends really puts things in perspective.

The Losers were as strong as ever. The group planned to FaceTime at least once a week, but usually it ended up happening much more often. The Losers had been together for not one, not two, but three divorces; and everyone seemed to be better off for it. They were closer as a group than ever before. Richie had even met up with Bev and Ben a few weeks ago. Everything was great. 

Except for Eddie. 

Ever since Richie had come out to them and subsequently come out on Twitter, Eddie had been avoiding him like he was a leper hiding in a well house (that was probably in poor taste, but who was gonna yell at him? Eddie?). Sure, he’d show up for the group calls, but even then, he barely said a word to Richie except to react to his terrible jokes about Mrs. K. 

To be fair, it wasn’t like Richie had been trying especially hard to reach out either. He had sent a few texts over the past year, but it was a pretty pitiful amount.

Richie had no clue why Eddie was avoiding him, and it was killing him. It wasn’t like he expected Eddie to show up in LA and hang out, he was still busy in New York. Richie just wanted a call, or even a fucking text. Literally anything he would be able to hang on to. He had confided to Stan once about it, and being Stan, he had given level headed advice that Richie wasn’t going to use. 

“You know, has it occurred to you to talk to him directly, instead of asking me?” Stan raised an eyebrow. 

Richie sighed. “Stan, that’s obviously not going to work. If he won’t talk to me now, he’s not gonna even if I try to make him.”

“He would talk to you if you reached out, Rich,” Stan argued.

“How do you know that? It’s not like he’s talking to you regularly either.”

Stan suddenly looked guilty.

“Is he seriously fucking talking to you? Then what the fuck is his problem with me?” Richie was more upset than he knew was necessary, but he was mad, goddammit. 

Stan remained calm. “I think this would all be solved if you sat down and had a conversation with him.”   
“Fuck you, dude.” 

Stan appeared unfazed. 

“Sorry man. I just don’t know why he’s so determined to avoid me!” Richie complained. “I guess it would make sense if he was homophobic, but then why is he still cool about Bill and Mike? This isn’t making any fucking sense.”

“Talk to him,” Stan repeated, annoyed. “I really think you could figure out what’s wrong if you just talked to him.”

“Fine. Thanks for the help, Stan.”

“See you later, dude,” Stan hung up. Richie just stared at his phone for a while after the call ended. He should call Eddie. Stan was right, not that he’d ever admit it to him. 

“You can do this, Trashmouth,” Richie said to himself. “It’s not like calling Eddie actually makes you nervous. It’s just Eds.” 

-

Richie had been looking at Eddie’s contact instead of calling him. There was no photo, just the letters EK. Eddie had put his number in Richies’ phone after Jade of the Orient, and he had typed out his full name. When Richie had given him a funny look, Eddie rolled his eyes and handed him his phone back. Richie still hadn’t gotten around to changing the contact to something more appropriate. 

Richie changed the name to  _ Eds Spaghetts _ , with a little spaghetti emoji next to it. 

_ Stop stalling _ , his mind said to him in Bev’s voice. 

“Alright Beverly, I’ll call him. Happy?” Richie said aloud. He took a deep breath, and called Eddie. The phone rang for a while, before going to voicemail. 

_ “Hey, it’s Eddie Kaspbrak. I can’t come to the phone right now, and it’s probably because I’m at work. Leave a message and I’ll call you back _ ,” Eddie’s weirdly formal voicemail played from Richie’s phone. The phone beeped.

“Oh, uh. Hi, Eds.” Richie stumbled over his words. “I know we haven’t talked in a while, so I just thought maybe, uh. Call me back?” Richie hung up. 

_ Great job not embarrassing yourself _ , he thought to himself. He flopped onto his bed and cupped his face in his hands. Leaving a voicemail for your childhood-friend-slash-man-you’ve-been-in-love-with-for-god-knows-how-long shouldn’t be this hard. 

Richie finally got up from his bed to make dinner. He surfed Netflix as he wolfed down a grilled cheese. He settled on a boring looking reality show, content to binge all of it without really caring what was going on. 

Before he could start his binge, his phone began ringing. Steve was calling him yet again, probably to ask about his new material he was supposed to be writing. 

“Yello?” Richie greeted.

“How’s the material coming along, Richie?” Steve had no time for niceties when there was a sad, gay comedian to bother. 

“Well, you know. I’m working on it. We’ll get there,” Richie lied. 

“We better. I want to see some of it next week,” Steve said shortly. Richie would have been worried if Steve didn’t say this every week.

“Ok, Steve, talk later. Thanks.”   
And with that, Richie hung up. This little game they played was ultimately unproductive. Richie would always say he was working on his new material, and Steve would always pretend to believe him. He wasn’t sure why Steve was even bothering with him anymore; if he was Steve, he would’ve dropped Richie after the first incident. Where did Steve get off helping him out? 

Richie put those thoughts aside and turned the reality show back on. There was something going on with these pods, and getting married. It would probably be a great content farm for his next twenty tweets.

Before Richie could type out some unfunny commentary about how uninteresting the whole show was, his phone rang again. 

_ Steve again already? _ he thought, until he saw the caller ID:  _ Eds Spaghetts _ . 

“Oh, fuck,” Richie said. He answered the call. “Hey, Eds.”

“Don’t call me that. Hey, Richie. Why’d you call?”

“I don’t know, I was just thinking, we haven’t, you know, spoken in a while and I wanted to catch up,” Richie felt his face grow redder as he spoke. 

“Oh,” Eddie’s voice sounded funny.

“Is everything ok?”

“Oh- yeah. Sorry, I’m just distracted right now.”

Guilt began to creep over Richie. “I can call you later if you want, it’s ok, sorry for distracting you,” he apologized.

“No! I mean, no, I can talk now,” Eddie said.

“So, Eds,” Richie ignored Eddie’s protests. “How’s your mom?”

“Shut the fuck up, dickwad,” Eddie scolded him, and Richie could hear the unique cocktail of annoyance, disappointment, and maybe fondness(?) in his voice that was reserved only for Richie. He grinned.

“Alright, that was a low blow, I’ll admit. Seriously, how’s the most boring job in the world going?” 

Eddie ignored his jabs. “It’s fine. I’m up for a promotion, but I might not take it.”

“Our Eddie Spaghetti, up for a promotion at his big corporate job,” Richie whistled. “Why wouldn’t you take it?”

He could practically hear Eddie’s brow furrow. 

“I was considering quitting my job,” he admitted.

“ _ Edward Kaspbrak _ . Do I even know you anymore? Where did my Eddie go?” Richie teased, laughing easily. Eddie laughed too, and Richie felt something tighten in his chest. He ignored it.

“Shut up, asshole.”

“You love it,” Richie said, and instantly regretted it. “Sorry, that was kinda weird.”

“Weird?” Eddie asked, sounding confused.

“Never mind, forget it,” Richie said as he waved his arms. There was an odd tension, now. 

_ Fuck, why did I say that _ , Richie thought, and he any courage he had before was now melting out of him.

“Anyway,” Eddie said, with a tone in his voice Richie couldn’t place. “I’m really sorry we haven’t been talking more, but you know, things have been hectic with my life, and taking a break and running away to Derry wasn’t-”

“Yeah, I get it, don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” Richie cut him off.

_ Liar _ , he thought.  _ You’ve been talking to Stan and probably the other Losers too _ . Richie let Eddie drop the subject.

“But I was actually thinking of taking a break from my job and flying to LA for a few weeks,” Eddie finished. 

_ Well _ . That was not what Richie had expected to hear.

“ _ Oh _ . Oh dude, that’s awesome! If you want, you can totally stay with me!” Richie offered. It was honestly a terrible idea for both parties, but he missed Eddie. He really missed Eddie. Sure, he would have to look at his face everyday and not kiss the hell out of him, but he could take it. Probably. 

“I mean, I don’t want to intrude on you,” Eddie said slowly. 

“No, you wouldn’t be intruding! I have a guest bedroom and everything, it would be fun for both of us,” Richie cringed at how desperate he sounded. Surprisingly, Eddie didn’t seem to notice that he was basically begging him to come; and if he did, he didn’t say anything.

“Oh. Well, if you’re sure,” Eddie said, still sounding hesitant. 

“Of course, man,” Richie said, with a stupid grin on his face. “Look, you’re probably busy right now, so I’ll let you go, but text me when you’re in LA.”

“Bye, Rich,” Eddie sounded excited, and it made the thing hiding in Richie’s chest tighten even more. God, he was so fucked. 

~

Eddie had been holding it together for the past few months, but he had just doomed himself. He couldn’t get too close to Richie, he couldn’t let himself go there. This precarious situation was being entirely held up by isolating himself from the one person he needed the most. Any therapist would have their work cut out for them with Eddie, so he had avoided that too.

The other Losers were worried about him, too. Bev had picked up on the strain in his voice that had been becoming more apparent in their calls, and when he finally broke down, she was there.

Bev had been the first he had come out to, and by extension, Ben. She hadn’t seemed that surprised, but to be fair, he had never been that subtle. Ben had reacted lovingly, ready to fly all the way to New York to hug him.

Stan was next. Eddie didn’t cry when he came out to Stan, but he swore he could see Stan’s eyes glistening (Stan claimed it was the bad quality of the call). 

After he wiped his eyes, he had just asked, “Richie?” and Eddie could only nod. Stan had always been observant. 

He told Mike when Mike had been in New York. He was traveling around the states until Bill’s divorce was finalized. Mike had given him the biggest hug, and told Eddie that he was so, so proud of him. 

Eddie hadn’t been sure if he really had to tell Bill. Bill already knew when they were still barely teenagers in Derry, but it felt like a formality more than anything. He called Bill while he was packing for LA.

“Hey, everything okay?” Bill sounded concerned.

“I’m gay,” Eddie finally said. 

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Eddie laughed a little. He rolled his socks up and stuffed them into his suitcase. “You already knew, but I still thought I should say it.”

“Have you told the others?” Bill asked.

“Yeah, most of them,” Eddie finally said. “I didn’t tell Richie.”

“You should. I think he misses you.”

“Yeah, I’m going to stay with him in a few days,” Eddie carefully folded a nicer pair of slacks.

“I don’t know if that’s the best idea,” Bill said slowly, choosing his words carefully. “Going from straight up ignoring him to staying in the same apartment as him?” 

Eddie exhaled.

“I know. I know it’s probably a really bad idea, but I feel guilty for avoiding him for months. He said he misses me, Bill.”

“Are you going to tell him?” Bill asked quietly.

“What, that I’m gay?”

“Well, that, but also. The other thing?” 

“God, no. I don’t want to ruin it,” Eddie stopped packing and sat on his bed.

“Maybe you should,” Bill said. 

“Shut up, man. Well, I have to finish packing,” Eddie felt awkward.

“You better visit me while you’re here, okay?” 

“You know I will.”

-

The airport was crowded when Eddie arrived, even though he had an early morning flight. The flight itself passed about as fast as it could have. Eddie felt jittery the entire time, and the ginger ale he ordered did nothing to help. He was still practically vibrating in his seat.

The man sitting next to Eddie was chewing his complimentary pretzels incredibly loudly. Normally, Eddie would have scolded him over his annoying mouth noises, but he couldn’t even muster up the energy.

_ This was a mistake _ , Eddie panicked as he got off the plane. His nerves did not cool down at all as he found the baggage claim. As he waited for his suitcase, he pulled out his phone. First he texted Bill. 

_ I survived the flight and I’m here _

**have fun :)**

Then he texted Richie.

_ I safely arrived in LA _

**why do u text like a robot dude**

_ Shut up at least I don’t shorten you to u _

**eds you wound me**

**well whenever youre ready the tozier escort experience is waiting for you outside ;)**

_ PLEASE do not call it that. _

Eddie rolled his eyes. Richie had never matured from the thirteen year old boy Eddie had known back in Derry. It was kind of nice to know some things didn’t change. He left the airport and stood around, looking for Richie. His phone buzzed.

**i think i see u**

**are you dressed much too uncomfortably for a flight**

_ Shut up _

_ Yes _

And then he saw Richie. He was waving wildly, a massive shit eating grin on his face. The button-up shirt he was wearing was dotted with tiny fruit that appeared to be oranges. Eddie’s mouth rebelled and smiled back against his will. Richie rushed over to him and grabbed his bag. He threw it in the trunk of his car. Richie then bowed dramatically before opening up the passenger seat for Eddie. Eddie climbed in, embarrassed. 

“So, Eds, my man! You made it to LA!” Richie’s car was blasting music he didn’t recognize, but it was barely away from ear-splitting. 

“Yeah, I did,” Eddie shouted over the incessant pop music. 

“You know, you never actually told me what brought you to LA. Did you miss wittle old me that much?” Richie gave Eddie the biggest pout he could muster, and it’s actually cute, goddammit. 

“Beep beep, Richie,” Eddie said as Richie pulled out of the space he was parked in. “I haven’t seen Bill since Derry, and I needed to get away from my job anyway. And I did miss you.”

Richie’s face went pink. Eddie tried not to think about why. 

“Oh. Well, I’m glad to have ya,” Richie said, putting on a fake voice. “Can’t wait for ya to see all LA has to offa!” 

Eddie laughed more than he meant to. He glanced at Richie quickly, who was looking pleased with himself. 

The song playing changed, and Richie began singing along obnoxiously. Eddie wasn’t really paying attention, but the lyrics were something about watermelon and summer.

“I didn’t take you for a fan of pop,” Eddie turned down the volume of the music, much to Richie’s disappointment. 

“I have many layers to me. I’m a man of mystique.”

Eddie snorted.

-

They made it to Richie’s apartment without any major vehicular accidents. Richie tried to help Eddie with his suitcase, but Eddie felt guilty letting him help so much. Richie turned on the lights, and it was… surprisingly clean. Sure, it’s nowhere near the level of Eddie’s own apartment, but definitely not what Eddie had expected. 

“The guest room’s over there,” Richie gestured vaguely. Eddie nodded. “I’m gonna take a nap, but feel free to unpack and relax. I have Netflix and Hulu if you want to watch anything.”

Richie disappeared into his room, and left Eddie to his own devices. Eddie started by unpacking and organizing his clothes, and before he knew it, it was evening. 

He wandered around Richie’s apartment, trying to glean any information he could about how Richie lived. Sure, it was a little creepy, sue him. Not long after Eddie settled onto the couch, Richie emerged from his room. 

“Do you mind having takeout for dinner, because I don’t feel like cooking,” Riche leaned over the back end of the couch to look at Eddie. 

“I don’t really mind, as long as it’s not something gross like fucking Pizza Hut,” Eddie didn’t realize he was making a face until Richie had already snapped a photo.

“And  _ there’s _ your contact photo,” Richie grinned. “What do you have against Pizza Hut?”

Eddie folded his arms.   
“Their food isn’t healthy at all, and they’re completely unsanitary!”

Richie laughed. “There’s my hypochondriac.”

Eddie suddenly became very aware of the fact that Richie was still leaned over the edge of the couch, and was very much in his face.

_ Kiss him _ , his traitorous mind said. Eddie hoped his face wasn’t as red as it felt. Richie must have noticed, because he stopped leaning so close to Eddie’s face. He wished Richie hadn’t moved.

“There’s a good bagel place nearby and they’re on UberEats,” Richie offered.

“Bagels? At seven in the evening?” 

“I don’t need you judging what I eat for dinner,” Richie said.

“Bagels sound alright,” Eddie said, standing up from the couch. “I’m going to change clothes, but I’ll take lox if they have it.”

“Of course you will, Mr. New Yorka,” Richie called after him. 

-

After they ate, Eddie was tempted to retreat into his room and avoid Richie, but Richie seemed determined to talk to him. 

“So,” Richie started, “pretty irresponsible of you to fly all the way out to LA when you’re still settling your divorce in New York.”

Wow. Richie was not pulling punches. It almost would have been funny if Eddie’s divorce hadn’t been resolved two months ago, and if he hadn’t specifically avoided telling Richie.

“Well, my divorce actually got settled in May,” Eddie said uncomfortably. God, he was a terrible person. 

“Oh.”

Richie looked hurt, and Eddie wanted to throw himself off of the apartment’s balcony. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you-” Eddie tried.

“It’s cool, dude. It’s chill, my man,” Richie tried to play it off as nothing, but he looked like someone had just kicked a small animal in front of him.

_ Nice going, asshole _ , he scolded himself mentally. 

“I’m feeling really tired, so I’m gonna go to sleep, I think,” Richie said, standing up and turning away from Eddie. “Goodnight, grab me if you need anything.”

_ Come back, I’m sorry _ , Eddie wanted to say. Instead, he just sat there as Richie darted into his room. 

_ Eddie Kaspbrak, you are the worst friend anyone has ever had.  _

~   
  
Richie woke up much earlier than he would ever want to, and it’s Eddie’s fault. Eddie’s default alarm tone filters through the thin walls of Richie’s apartment, and he stirred enough to yell at Eddie to “ _ Turn your fucking alarm off, dude! _ ” and then curl back up. Eddie yelled back a muffled apology, and the alarm stopped. Richie considered falling back asleep, but he decided it would be more fun to tease Eddie. 

By the time Richie had managed to drag himself out of bed and into the living room, Eddie was awake and dressed. He was wearing a salmon button up and slacks that were  _ much  _ too nice for the occasion. 

“Dude, why do you look like you’re about to give me a cost-benefits analysis presentation or whatever the fuck?” Richie laughed. Eddie went red.

“Beep beep, dickwad!” Eddie said, embarrassed. “I brought what I had, okay?” 

“This is too good, oh my god,” Richie was still laughing. Yeah, he was probably being a dick, but that was just Richie’s brand, literally. “We have to get you different clothes, Eddie.” 

Eddie went even more red, if that was possible.

“Absolutely not.” 

Richie fell to his knees, shaking his fist at the sky. 

“Please, Eds, let me fulfill my dying wish of buying you some sweatpants,” Richie pretended to sob. Eddie glared at him, folding his arms. 

“Jesus dude, I already have sweatpants. I just like dressing nicely, but sure, laugh it up.”

“Woah, okay. Message received,” Richie immediately backed down. He should’ve known that Eddie didn’t miss him as much as he had hoped. Richie stood up and awkwardly put his hands in his pockets.

Eddie looked confused, but Richie doesn’t have time to figure out what that expression means. 

“Coffee?” Richie offered, trying to clear the air. The tension in the room dissolves, at least for a little while.

Over coffee, Richie learned that Eddie’s ex-wife had been strictly against him consuming any sort of caffeine. Of course, he would still grab coffee, but only if he could dispose of it before he returned home. 

“To the former Mrs. Kaspbrak, then,” Richie joked, raising his mug. Eddie gave him a look.

“Not cool, dude. It hasn’t even been three months.”   
“Okay, okay. I’m not allowed to joke about your ex-wife. Noted,” Richie tilted his head back and finished the remaining coffee in his mug. Eddie was still nursing a mostly full mug. “So, Eds. Eddie Spaghetti. What’s the plan for today? Exploring the great city of Los Angeles?” Richie leaned forward. Eddie rolled his eyes and took a sip of his coffee. 

“Well, Bill’s busy today, so I don’t have a plan.” 

Richie raised an eyebrow.

“Are you telling me you flew all the way out to LA without making an extensive itinerary for each day? You’ve changed, Eds, you’ve changed,” Richie gestured with his mug, waving it towards Eddie. 

“First, don’t call me Eds. Second, of course I didn’t plan a fucking itinerary! This was kind of a spur of the moment trip,” he admitted.

Richie almost dropped his mug, and the small amount of liquid collected at the bottom of the mug spilled all over his loudly patterned button down. 

“Shit,” Richie said eloquently. Eddie burst out laughing, nearly spilling his own coffee. 

“Do you need a new shirt, Trashmouth?” Eddie asked, still giggling. Richie forgot to answer for a few seconds, his brain focusing in on Eddie’s adorable expression.

“What? Oh- nah, I’m good,” Richie grinned. He tried to erase the memory of Eddie’s smile and laugh from his brain, but it stayed, determined to replay in Richie’s head again and again.  _ Fuck _ .

“Gross.” 

“Yeah, that’s fair,” Richie conceded. “So, Eddie Kaspbrak, how do you feel about errands with me? Does that fulfill your desperate need to explore and document LA?”

Eddie shrugged.

“If that’s all you have to do here, I’ll take that over just sitting in your awful apartment.”   
“Come on Eds, it’s not that bad,” Richie took his mug over to the sink and let it sit there. Eddie watched him and scowled. 

“You shouldn’t just leave your mug sitting in the sink without washing it,” Eddie scolded. He snatched Richie’s mug and washed it. He drained his own into the sink, and then washed it. “This is the exact reason your apartment is so gross.”

Richie only chuckled.  _ Man, I love him _ .

-

Grocery shopping was relatively uneventful, aside from a particularly passionate argument about cereal. Apparently, Eddie is very strongly against sugary cereal of any kind (“It is a terrible way to start your day, Richie!” “What, it’s not like you have to eat any.” “I still care about  _ your _ health.”). Richie had bought Lucky Charms anyway. If he wanted to, he could eat goddamn marshmallows for breakfast. After groceries came lunch, and they stopped at a subpar burger place. Eddie had always been a stickler regarding customer service, but seeing it up close was  _ terrifying _ . Richie would have been mortified (and maybe a little turned on, but he would never admit that) if he was on the wrong end of Eddie’s wrath. 

Richie tipped the poor server extra, mouthing a  _ sorry about him, he’s got major mommy issues _ as they left. 

They made it back to Richie’s apartment at two in the afternoon, left with nothing to do but sit around. Eddie hid in his room, and Richie reclined on the couch. His phone pinged. It was Bev.

**Hey rich how's everything going with eddie? You haven't physically fought each other yet have you**

_ nope _

_ im too in love with him to fight him _

_ hes avoiding me rn _

**I’m sorry honey**

_ its whatever _

_ did you know that his divorce got settled two months ago _

_ because i fucking didnt _

**Oh**

**He never told you?**

**I’m really sorry Richie**

_ clearly he doesnt want to be here with me _

**I have a hard time believing that**

_ yeah well you arent here _

**I’m sorry**

**What can I do?**

_ i can work things out with him _

_ we were good this morning _

_ even tho we were pretending last night didnt happen _

**Do you want me to talk to him?**

_ no  _

_ i can do it _

**Well I love you very much**

**And I’m here whenever**

_ ditto _

**Do you want a Losers group call later?**

**We haven’t had one in a while and it will get Eddie out of his room**

_ sounds great _

_ ttyl molly ringwald _

**< 3**

Richie shoved his phone back into his pocket. He lay on the couch for a while, until he dozed off. The buzzing of his phone jolted him awake a little bit later. Bev had stuck to her word and started the Loser’s weekly call. Richie sat up, fixed his hair, and joined. Bev was already laughing at something Bill had said, who was now looking incredibly smug. Mike, Bev, and Bill each greeted Richie, and Ben popped in from next to Bev to wave at him. Richie smiled stupidly as his friends. Before long, Stan had joined the call, with Patty sitting next to him and leaning on his shoulder. They were so domestic it was disgusting.

“Rich, your hair looks like shit,” Stan said. Patty tapped his shoulder lightly, but she was laughing. 

“Thanks, I was just having absolutely spectacular sex on my couch over here,” Richie deadpanned while the rest of the Losers broke out into various states of amusement.

“I call bullshit!” Bill chimed in. “Eddie would’ve heard you and yelled at you for fucking on your couch.”

“Yes, because that’s obviously the only flaw. Bill, is missing the joke a genetic trait?” Richie jabbed.

“Anyway. So, Richie,” Patty diverted the conversation back on track, “how are you doing with Eddie in LA?”

“I’m doing just fine, but I can’t speak to the state of our spaghetti friend,” Richie replied, laughing. Patty chuckled.

“Come to think of it, where is Eddie?” Ben asked. Richie was tempted to shout and grab Eddie’s attention, but he thought it would be better not to poke the bear. 

“I’m sure he’ll join at some point,” Mike said. “He hasn’t missed a single call yet.”

None of them had. Not long after, Eddie’s face appeared on the call. He looked tired (why? They had only gotten groceries today), but still infuriatingly cute. 

“Speak of the devil! Why are you so late, Eddie?” Bev questioned, jokingly. “What were you doing that was more important than your closest friends?” 

Eddie rolled his eyes. 

“Work stuff.”

“Real specific. Thanks, bud,” Richie teased.

Eddie glowered at him.  _ Still cute _ , he thought.

“Eddie, before you yell at him, think: what are the chances he’ll be able to hear you through the walls of his apartment?” Stan ribbed, finally joining the Teasing Eds train.

Even Eddie laughed at that one. His mood already seemed brighter than it had when he joined.

“I can fix that,” Eddie said, and before Richie could react, Eddie jumped onto the couch from behind, landing  _ much  _ too far into Richie’s personal space.

“Shit, dude, you scared me!” Richie exclaimed, trying to make up for the blush steadily creeping up his face. He could hear the warped versions of his friends’ laughter coming from both phones. 

“Wait, one of us has to hang up now,” Eddie said before hanging up on his own phone and scooting  _ even closer _ to Richie. Richie tapped his toes on the ground at rapid fire speed; it was all he could do to channel this tingling feeling spreading throughout his body. 

“Eddie and Richie, finally reunited once again,” Mike smiled. 

“Don’t say it like that, you make us sound like the stars of some badly written romance,” Eddie objected. Richie nodded his head, but he was more focused on the arm that had sneakily reached behind him to comfortably rest on Richie’s shoulder.

_ Jesus, is he  _ trying  _ to kill me? I’m not supposed to be the repressed one of our group anymore _ .

“Seeing us all paired makes me miss the Losers’ all hanging out in person,” Mike said tearily. “I know you’re all probably busy for any foreseeable holidays, but I think we all could use a Loser’s meet up that doesn’t involve any close brushes with death or clowns.”

“I’ll drink to that!” Richie pushed his phone into Eddie’s hands and grabbed the nearest glass he could find. The other Losers raised their assorted glasses, and they all drank (or in Richie’s case, mimed taking a shot). 

Rough plans were made for the nearest Thanksgiving as the next Losers’ Club meet up. None of them were too keen on the holiday, and most of them didn’t have family to visit (except for Richie and Bill, but neither of their families had ever really celebrated the holiday). Richie and Eddie hung up after goodbyes and I love you’s had been exchanged all around. Eddie’s arm hadn’t yet left Richie’s shoulder.

Finally, Eddie retracted his arm, and stood from the couch. 

“I’m pretty tired, so I think I’ll go to bed. Night, Rich,” Eddie stretched and started to walk towards the guest room.

“Wait,” Richie said before he knew what he was doing. He stumbled off the couch to catch up to Eddie. 

“What?” Eddie turned to look at him, and there was a soft expression in his eyes. If Richie hadn’t known better, he might’ve called it hope.  _ You could kiss him right now _ .  _ Do it, Trashmouth _ .

“Nothing,” Richie’s voice felt odd in his throat. He pulled Eddie into a sad half-hug. “Goodnight, Eds.”

Eddie’s face changed, and Richie would have been willing to swear on his life that Eddie looked disappointed, but he banished the thought. 

-

The next morning, Richie woke up to an empty apartment. Before he saw Eddie’s note, he panicked, but that was between him and the faded green walls of his kitchen and him. The note was so Eddie it was painful: 

_ Rich, _

_ Left early to go see Bill. Try not to be too lonely while I’m gone. I’ll bring home dinner? _

_ Eddie :) _

Richie couldn’t stop staring at Eddie’s handwriting. It was neat, but had a nice slant to it. Eddie didn’t seem like the type to write smiley faces, but the face Eddie had written after his name was making Richie’s face heat. 

_ Jesus, it’s a fucking piece of paper. Calm the fuck down _ , Richie scolded himself. That didn’t stop him from carefully folding the note and stuffing it in his pocket. 

Richie sipped on his coffee and stared at his laptop. The blank document he had opened stared back. Steve had called again, and Richie had kept up the charade; but the guilt was starting to eat at him. It’s not like he had anything better to do today, right? Eddie’s out of the apartment today.

Thinking about Eddie was not helpful motivation. Against his will, memories of Eddie began playing in his mind. Eddie’s giggle when he spilled his coffee was on repeat, and Richie put his head in his hands. 

_ I need a distraction, _ he thought.  _ Bev _ , he thought.

She picked up on the second ring. 

“Hey, Rich,” Bev greeted, but her expression quickly shifted when she saw the face Richie was making. “What’s wrong?”   
“I’m trying to write new material but I can’t fucking focus, and Eddie’s still acting weird, and I don’t know what’s going on with him,” Richie ran his hands through his hair. 

“Okay, take a deep breath,” Beverly guided him, and he was feeling a little bit better. “What’s going on with Eddie?”

“He’s acting hot and cold with me! One second he’ll joke with me and he looks so happy, but then he hides in the guest room and avoids me and I don’t know  _ why _ .”

“I think you need to sit down and have an honest conversation with him,” Bev said, leaning back in her chair.

“I would if he didn’t stop hiding in his room all day,” Richie grumbled.

“If you really sat down with him instead of letting him retreat, you could,” Bev raised an eyebrow.

“Ouch. You don’t mince words, Beverly Marsh.”

She laughed.

“It’s one of my better qualities,” she said smugly.

“Fine. You and Stan are right. I’ll talk to him,” Richie finally conceded. Bev smiled warmly.

“You got this, Rich. Who knows, maybe you’ll even tell him you love him.” 

“No way, I’m not brave enough for that,” Richie looked away wistfully. “And besides, he’s straight. I’d just end up creeping him out.”

Bev looked surprised, but Richie didn’t have time to unpack why. They talked for a few more minutes, until Richie felt better and let Bev go.

Richie was feeling more driven than he had in months. If he could solve this weird tension with Eddie, he could write new material. 

Richie managed to get a few bits on the page, including one notable story involving a dare from Bill, hair dye, and eggs (Eddie would probably kill him if he told that story). All in all, he was pretty proud of his progress today. 

Eddie returned to the apartment in a good mood, and he had brought dinner. Richie was quiet through all of dinner, content to let Eddie describe his day, and the plot of Bill’s new novel. After they ate, Eddie retreated back to his room once again, and Richie didn’t have the courage to ask him to stay. 

_ You’ll ask him next time. It can wait until tomorrow. _

~

Something was up with Richie. He was almost silent at dinner, stabbing his fork repeatedly into his salad and avoiding eye contact with Eddie. He lay on the guest bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out Richie. Richie gave him these  _ looks _ , like Eddie was the only thing in the universe. It was killing him. 

It was becoming harder and harder to deny the possibility that Richie loved him too. Eddie was a logical man, and he was trying his best to keep it that way. 

_ Wouldn’t it be worse to get your hopes up for them to be destroyed?  _ Eddie justified to himself as he rolled over, stuffing his face in the pillow. 

Sleep didn’t come easy to him that night, but a fitful sleep was better than none at all. He was woken up in the middle of the night, by the sobbing coming from the other side of the wall. Eddie lay there, paralyzed, until he heard Richie’s voice.

“Eddie?” Richie sounded fucking  _ broken,  _ like he had screamed himself raw. Eddie rushed into Richie’s room, and Richie was a mess. His entire face was red, and tears were still dripping off his chin. Eddie sat next to Richie on his bed. He pulled Richie into a hug before he knew what he was doing.

Richie held onto him like nothing else mattered, clutching at his back so tight. 

“Please, stay,” he murmured against Eddie’s neck.

_ I can’t. _

“Richie, I…” Eddie trailed off.

Richie pulled away to look him in the eyes. 

“Please.”

“I can’t,” he said. 

“Why?” Richie moved to touch his hand.

_ Because I’m afraid I’ll like it too much.  _

Eddie stood up. Richie looked so defeated, and something in Eddie’s chest coiled so tightly he thought it might snap. 

Richie turned away from him, shoulders still shaking. Eddie’s guilt clawed at him; and he had to resist the urge to hug Richie again. He couldn’t stay. 

Eddie didn’t sleep for the rest of the night. Richie’s sobs stopped, but if he listened, he could still hear quiet sniveling.

Richie wouldn’t look at him in the morning. Eddie wouldn’t blame him if he was angry, but he just looked devastated. They drank their coffee in silence, until Eddie couldn’t take in anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he said. 

Richie didn’t say a word, choosing instead to stare into his mug.

When Eddie cleaned his mug, Richie finally spoke.

“Why,” he choked out. “What did I do?”   
Eddie’s heart sank.

“It’s nothing. You didn’t do anything,” Eddie tried.

“Then what is your problem with me?” Richie stood up. “I’ve been trying to figure you out, and I’m lost.”

Eddie could only stare at him as Richie made his way over, until he was standing right in front of him.

“What, are you so scared of sleeping in the same bed as a fairy like me? Afraid I’ll, I’ll  _ touch  _ you,” Richie poked his finger into Eddie’s chest. Eddie blinked back the tears that were threatening to break loose. 

“No!” Eddie stepped back, and the tears fell. 

Richie was crying now, too. 

“Then what is it? What’s wrong with me?” Richie yelled. “If you hate me so much, then maybe you should just leave!”

Eddie froze. Richie was glaring at him. He had really meant it. 

“I don’t fucking hate you!” he shouted. “I’m gay!”

He clapped his hands over his mouth. Richie staggered backwards. 

“What?” 

“Yeah. It’s true,” Eddie admitted, exhaling. They were both still crying. Richie sank down onto the couch. He looked like the wind had been knocked out of him.

“You could have told me,” Richie said, looking up at him. 

“I know.”

Eddie sat on the couch, and they were both silent, until Eddie found the words to continue.

“After you came out, I, I feel stupid for not being as brave. I was too scared. I couldn’t bring myself to talk to you,” he explained. Sure, it wasn’t the full truth, but it was half of it. It was all Eddie could bring himself to say. Richie looked so guilty.

“Oh my god, Eds, I’m so sorry.” 

“No, it’s not your fault, Rich. I had my own issues to unpack,” Eddie said, grabbing Richie’s shoulders. “I’m sorry for last night.”

“You can’t apologize when I’m apologizing, you dick,” Richie laughed wetly. They sat there, Eddie’s hands on Richie’s shoulders, until Eddie finally hugged him. 

They pull away, and just look at each other. Richie’s lips are so close to his. 

_ Do it, _ his mind urges. 

He doesn’t. Instead, Eddie stood up, and awkwardly walked back into the guest room.

That night, Richie appeared at Eddie’s door. His eyes were red. Eddie let him crawl into his bed wordlessly, and hugged him tight. Once Richie had fallen asleep, he pulled away. He can’t get too close. Because then he might actually kiss Richie. 

He woke up before Richie. He was once again in Richie’s arms. Well. Eddie felt the blush coloring his cheeks. 

He ignored the voice shouting at him to get out, to leave. Eddie snuggled deeper into Richie’s chest, which was very warm and, if he was being completely honest, incredibly comfortable. Richie made a noise that sounded like a groan, and then his eyes fluttered open. Eddie stared at him. He looked blissfully happy. 

“Hey,” Eddie choked out.

“Hi.”

Eddie couldn’t take it anymore. He extricated himself from Richie’s arms, and left Richie there to go shower. 

Breakfast was calm. Eddie was happy to eat in content silence, letting Richie do most of the talking. 

“Mike’s flying back into LA soon, right?” Richie asked. “We should get drinks with him and Bill when they’re back.”

“Sounds great,” Eddie hummed. God, this whole scene was so domestic. In another world, maybe they could have this. 

_ Who says you can’t have it in this one, _ Eddie thought briefly, before shoving it out of his mind. 

“Something wrong?” Richie’s questions shook Eddie out of his own mind.

“No, nothing. Sorry, I just distracted for a minute.” 

Richie smiled at him. 

-

The rest of Eddie’s stay in LA was uneventful. Richie and Eddie didn’t do much aside from going out to eat and watch Netflix. Sometimes, Richie would work on his material, looking adorably focused. He would always look up, see Eddie watching him, and give him a big grin before showing him what he was writing. It was always funny. Much funnier than anything Richie had done in a while (Eddie had once gone on a googling streak a few months ago, and watched all of Richie’s stand up he could find). 

They shared a bed most nights, unless it was too much for Eddie. Richie was more understanding of the situation now, but Eddie struggled to tell him when he needed Richie to leave. Richie was being too nice to him now- Eddie was coming close to yelling at Richie for treating him like glass. 

They were watching some garbage reality show together. Eddie wasn’t paying attention, and Richie didn’t look like he was either. They were sitting thigh to thigh, and every point of contact was making Eddie feel fuzzy, in a good way. 

Eddie’s hand moved of its own volition, landing at the back of Richie’s neck. He started to play with Richie’s hair absentmindedly, twirling it around his fingers. Eddie tilted his head to see Richie’s face, and the expression he was wearing was unmistakable. 

It was love. 

Eddie had seen it on himself before, and Richie had worn expressions similar to it before, but it was more intense than it had ever been. 

He resisted the urge to kiss the expression off of Richie’s face right then. 

Eddie retracted his hand from Richie’s hair, letting it fall into his lap. Richie made a noise of disappointment. 

It didn’t take long for Richie to fall asleep on the couch. Eddie didn’t want to leave him there, but Richie stood at least a few inches taller than him, and he was a broad guy. 

Defeatedly, Eddie climbed into his bed. His eyes remained wide open. Sleep seemed like an impossibility. He needed to talk to someone. 

“Hey, Stan.” 

Stan rubbed at his eyes.

“You asshole, it’s one in the fucking morning here,” he grumbled.

“You still answered,” Eddie pointed out helpfully. Stan looked like he was contemplating flying to LA to murder Eddie. 

“Well, you’ve got me here now, so what do you want?” Stan asked, still annoyed.

“Is Richie in love with me?”

Stan leaned back in his chair, surprised. 

“That’s the million dollar question right there, isn’t it?” Stan looked Eddie right in the eyes, sand even over a video call, his expression was striking.

“He is, isn’t he,” Eddie insisted. “Do you want me to lay it all out for you?” 

“No, but I think you want to,” Stan said. Eddie sighed.

“Yeah. You’re right,” he admitted. “It’s just… the way that he looks at me. Like there’s nothing else that matters to him.” 

Based off of Stan’s expression, he was probably blushing. He checked. Yep.

“I know it sounds like a stupid fucking cliche, but I’m serious,” Eddie defended. 

“Okay, okay. I’m not going to make fun of you,” Stan’s expression remained unchanged. “Go on.”

“Uh, okay. So sometimes he’ll get really close to my face and I swear he looks like he wants to kiss me, and it’s not just once, it’s happened at least three times, and that can’t possibly be a coincide-”

“So have you kissed him?” Stan interrupted.

Eddie’s face flushed.

“No, I haven’t, and you knew that, asshole,” he said, still blushing. 

“Yeah,” Stan laughed. “You should, though.”

Stan’s laughter only grew in volume as Eddie put his head in his hands.

-

The night before Eddie returned to New York, him and Richie met up with Mike and Bill. They didn’t have any plan of what they were doing, so they ended up in a mediocre dinner. 

The food was bad, but Eddie didn’t mind. He was too focused on Richie. Richie was giggling, tears in his eyes. Mike looked fondly annoyed, and Bill was barely holding back his own laughter. 

“Why can’t you be this funny onstage, Trashmouth?” Eddie jabbed. 

“Don’t bully me, Eds, you know I’m working on my material,” Richie hit him playfully. Bill’s eyes widened.

“You are?” he looked like he wanted to reach over the table and shake Richie’s shoulders. If Mike didn’t have his arm around Bill’s shoulder, he probably would have. “Why didn’t you tell any of us?!” 

Richie’s expression turned sheepish. 

“I told Eds.”

“Come on, that doesn’t count! You’ve been basically living with him!” Bill punctuated his scolding with a hearty swig of his beer. “You two are attached at the hip, like you used to be!”

Eddie prayed Richie didn’t see the knowing look Mike shot at him from across the table. 

“Well, forgive me for not sharing,” Richie grinned. “I’ve just been so busy with the eulogy for Eds’ mom. Words truly can’t describe all of the nights we spent together.”

Eddie’s face went red and he shoved his hand into Richie’s face, much to Bill’s amusement.

“Shut  _ up, _ you ass,” he said. Richie stuck his tongue out and licked his palm. “ _ Gross!” _ Eddie quickly retracted his hand and wiped it on his jeans. Richie leaned back, a satisfied smile painting his face. 

Bill burst out laughing, and even Mike chuckled at the glare that Eddie shot. Richie raised his beer.

“A toast to bullying Eds,” he said seriously. Mike and Bill clinked their bottles with Richie’s, while Eddie sat there, fuming. 

“Hey, spaghetti, don’t be a buzzkill! Toast with us!” Richie laughed. “To the Losers?” he offered, raising his bottle again. Eddie relented and raised his own mostly neglected beer, toasting with the other three men.

“Man, I missed hanging out with you all,” Eddie set his beer down. Mike looked teary-eyed. “Don’t cry, you big sap.”

Eddie reached over to lightly punch Mike in the arm. Mike laughed.

“That’s it, we need another Losers Club meetup. The last time we all got together was over a year ago now,” Bill said, pointedly avoiding any mention of that clown bastard. A wave of regret washed over Eddie. He hadn’t seen any of the Losers since Derry other than Mike. 

“Hear, hear!” Richie clapped his hands. “I’ll drink to that. Fuck that homophobic clown!”

Mike and Bill chuckled. Richie continued to joke as the evening began to dwindle away, waning into a cool night. Mike and Bill decided to retire after having a few more beers each. Eddie was barely tipsy, but Richie was close to completely drunk. 

Eddie struggled under Richie’s shoulder while helping him to his car. Eddie paid close attention that he didn’t collapse beneath Richie’s weight, holding his ground. 

Eddie finally managed to drag Richie to the passenger side of the car, shoving him into it before slamming the door and leaning against it.

Richie was laughing hysterically, and Eddie might have found it funnier if he hadn’t spent all of his energy dragging a stupidly broad man to his car. 

When they arrived at Richie’s apartment, Eddie wrangled the keys from Richie and fumbled with them. Richie almost tripped and fell flat on his face as soon as the door was opened, if not for Eddie’s quick hands, grabbing onto Richie’s waist and holding tight. Eddie grunted, tugging Richie back into an upright position.

“Eds, you’re so strong,” Richie giggled as Eddie forced him onto the couch. Eddie rolled his eyes. 

“I never would have pegged you as a lightweight,” Eddie teased. Richie sat up, propped on his hands and glaring at Eddie. 

“‘M not a lightweight, I just, I haven’t been drinking as much as I used to.”

An awkward silence permeated through the room. Eddie’s chest felt fluttery, and it was probably some combination of the alcohol and Richie. 

“That was a coherent sentence! I’m proud of you, buddy,” Eddie said, finally breaking the pregnant pause. “You need some water in you.”

Eddie darted to the kitchen, returning with a full glass of water. Richie chugged it, and then sat there dumbly, staring at him. Eddie was starting to get worried.

“Hey, dude, you alright?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing. In lieu of an answer, Richie reached and cupped Eddie’s face in his hands. His thumb was running softly over the small white slash that had been left by Bowers. 

“Eds.”

Richie pressed a kiss to the scar, then fell back onto the couch. Eddie let out a sigh of relief- now was the worst possible time for a confession, assuming there was any good time for one. Eddie retreated into the guest room, surveying it one last time to guarantee he hadn’t left anything out of his suitcase. 

He fell into the bed, a fitful night of sleep awaiting him.

-

Eddie woke up cold. By now, he had grown accustomed to waking up with a six foot giant curled up next to him, their legs intertwined. Richie’s absence made Eddie shiver. 

He got dressed in the same thing he had arrived in LA in: a coral button-up and slacks that had both once been carefully pressed. Now, they didn’t look nearly as nice. 

Richie had already made Eddie coffee when he emerged from the bedroom, packed and ready for his flight. Richie was wearing yet another loudly printed shirt, sweatpants, and his hair was pulled back into a dumb little ponytail.   
Eddie wanted to flick it. 

They sat together at the dining table one last time, silent at first. There was a new tension that hadn’t been there before last night. Eddie couldn’t tell if Richie remembered the kiss.

_ Well, might as well ask, _ Eddie thought to himself as he tilted his head back to let the dredges of the coffee drip into his mouth.

“So, uh, how much of last night do you remember?” Eddie tried. “You were pretty drunk.”

Richie went pink, and he attempted to disguise it by hiding his face with his ridiculously sized mug. It didn’t work.

“Most of it, why?” Richie swallowed, looking everywhere but at Eddie. Eddie let the subject drop, content to watch Richie finish off his mug.

Not long after, Eddie followed Richie to his car, pulling his suitcase behind him. They argued over the music briefly, until Eddie finally relented, letting Richie play some artist he had never heard of. The woman singing was crooning about an unrequited love, and it made Eddie’s heart tighten. Richie was humming along, pretending to enjoy himself; but Eddie had noticed the looks Richie had been sneaking at him. 

Man, Eddie was going to miss this. They made it to the airport, and Eddie tried to ignore the tightness in his chest that was growing steadily more intense, threatening to sprout up into his throat. 

Richie pulled up to the airport dropoff. Instead of getting out of the passenger seat, Eddie sat there awkwardly.

Eddie turned, and glanced at Richie, the look in his eyes a specific recipe of longing and sadness. They stared at each other for a few tense seconds.

_ Kiss him, _ Eddie’s mind screamed at him. So he did.

Before he could even register what he was doing, Eddie’s hands cupped Richie’s jaw, and he pressed their lips together. Richie’s stubble skimmed against the palms of Eddie’s hands, and that shouldn’t have made him feel so tingly, but it did. Richie’s glasses were pressed uncomfortably into Eddie’s cheeks, but he didn't move. He stayed there, holding Richie’s face against his own, even though their noses weren’t at the right angle, and it was beginning to hurt.

Finally, it became too much for Eddie, and he pulled back. Eddie’s hands fell from Richie’s face to the back of his neck, and they stayed resting there.

Richie’s eyes fluttered open. His face was flushed, and the expression he was wearing was priceless. Eddie felt a twinge of pride.  _ I made him look like that. _

They sat there, looking at each other, silent. It was just a quick peck- even though Eddie kissed him for what  _ definitely _ was too long to be considered a quick peck- it was only a chaste kiss.

The moment is broken when a harsh car horn from behind them makes Eddie jump. Together, they fall back down to earth.

Eddie pressed another kiss to Richie’s cheek, and then got out of the car. He grabbed his suitcase from the trunk and turned before he could see Richie’s dumbstruck face. 

He bolted to the airport doors.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing for the it fandom, so please tell me what you thought!! This is the longest thing I’ve written and posted on ao3 ever and I’m kinda proud of it. Readers’ comments make my day so if anyone leaves a comment ill prob cry adfhjfgdjkls


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